Staying strong For you
by MIMIbaggins
Summary: Sorry, I'm rubbish at summaries. I've had a bit of a change of heart. Still eventual oc/character. But which to chose? I've decided to let you guys, my readers, vote. Any male from the hobbit! Kalira spends a bit of time in Gondor but she'll meet them company on the way to Erebor and will prove to be essential. But how? When? Why?
1. Chapter 1

" _Run. RUN! RUN for all of us! And take this. Keep this safe for when you carry this, you carry the souls of us all. Now go! They have come! Do not look back! We will find you! Run. RUN! RUN!_ "

"Run. Breathe. Run. Breathe. Run." She muttered. Her mind wandered to more 'important' matters.

Were they ok? They had to be.

Had they been captured for information? Maybe…

Would they tell? Surely not.

They would be fine, they would be fine they would be fine theywouldbefinetheywou-

FOCUS; She thought. They sacrificed themselves for her. She had to keep going. The orcs would come. They already were. She was fine so far, only a nick to her arm and some branch whippings to her face but…

NO.

She forced herself not to think about it. She couldn't keep this up though. Her eyes started to blur and with them the landscape. She had to stop. Not for too long but just for a bit…

Before she knew what she was doing, she found herself clutching at a tree.

"Breathe. Breathe. Breathe."- Snap.

What was that?

Aaarrgh!

A pain flared through her chest. Starting on the left side under her arm but instantly firing straight through as though she had been impaled. Had she?

Those were the last thoughts that crossed her mind before the world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**HIYA and HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Thank you to the ONLY 2 people who have reviewed and suggested that FILI or DWALIN should be the other side of the relationship. But I still don't know what to call HER. Thank you** **to MissCallaLilly for suggesting the name Lydenia. 11 of you read it yesterday so THANK YOU but this story won't go far without a name for our Main Character. This is going to be another relatively short chapter but quite fast paced. ENJOY peeps!**

 _A pain flared through her chest. Starting on the left side under her arm but instantly firing straight through as though she had been impaled. Had she?_

 _Those were the last thoughts that crossed her mind before the world went black._

She woke up to menacing, chilling, chattering voices all around her. As she regained consciousness, she could just figure out what they were saying. And then wished that she couldn't.

" _Looky, looky. Told you that there was some at' up ahead Baod. And 'ere it is. Wonder what it is? Not human; s'to small. 'Alfbreed per'aps?"_

They were speaking the language of Gundabad, she knew it only because of the amount of orcs that were constantly lurking by her village. You needed to have an understanding if you were to spy for the lord of the town and gather information from their holds in the woods. To be a spy was to be a valued member of society, so most were fluent.

The one she guessed as Baod spoke next, in a gruffer tone to his companion:  
 _"Ai. Hit by an arrow no less. From… Ramnog's quiver. Give 'im extras tonight. Good hit as well. Part from that she looks pretty healthy though. I say we cure 'er for information and then as a 'serven'."_

" _Sounds like a plan to me sir. Should I bind 'er so she don't try to run when we give 'er the antidote? It 'urts a bit usually but it does the job."_

" _Good. Bind 'er and make camp. Lay 'er down next to the fire so we can keep an eye on 'er."_

At once, rough hands clasped around her ankles and wrists, causing her to want to cry from the pain. Knowing that she had to fake unconsciousness, she bit her lip and forced herself to go limp as a boned fish. And then she blacked out.

She woke up again about two hours later, she thought. Her head was pounding but the agony in her side was starting to ebb away. 'That must be the antidote.' She though sluggishly. She heard a fire and the sounds of many large creatures moving around her. She opened her eyes a crack, just enough to get the vague picture of her surroundings.

She was right about the fire. It burned… Merrily wasn't quite right. There was something rather cold about the flames; haunting. There was nothing merry about any of it although the flames licked at leave on the trees and made them curl up, brown and wrinkled.

All around her were orcs. Everywhere. And wargs as well, about six prowled around the edge of the clearing which itself was only about 15 metres across. Around twelve orcs were there, all six feet tall, almost double her height.

Suddenly, one of the orcs spotted that she was awake and instantly alerted the rest of the pack. The one called Baod was obviously the leader, with a long cloak of assembled animal furs. He came forward and hoisted her up by her wrists which were bound behind her back. It took all of her not to cry out in pain from the stretching. Unexpectedly, he took out a knife and rather than pressing it to her throat, cut her bonds. But not for long. He quickly half tugged, half lead her over to a tree and pulled her hands around it so she couldn't escape.

And then he pressed the knife to her throat.

He spoke in common speech for he didn't know she spoke their language. Probably for the better.

"Tell us everything that you know girl; or you'll find yourself enduring a slow. And painful. Death."

 **Slightly longer than I expected but none the less, please let me know your thoughts. Whether they be on names relationships or my style of writing I would be glad to hear them all. Thanks again (and remember to vote)!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm… BACK! Hello my readers! I'm really sorry but the SENSIBLE part of me is informing me that I am currently slightly hyper. This may result in some errors but it helps me to make ideas (even if they are slightly off the wall). Anyway, thank you to Snowstar207 who suggested the names Ashwynn, Ciara, Kalira, Dacerie and Miarka. They are all BRILLIANT suggestions. Just so you all know, if you suggest a name and I don't choose it, it may well turn up in another fanfic that I write in the future so bear that in mind! Only votes are still: Dwalin-1 Fili-1. Enjoy Peeps and Peeppets (told you I was hyper).**

She glued her mouth shut and tucked in her lips to make it obvious that she had no intentions of divulging anything. She had to stay strong… for them. All of the people who had made sure that she could escape at least a little way from the smouldering ruins of her village. She was acutely aware of the locket pressed against her chest; cold and smooth.

' _Keep this safe for when you carry this, you carry the souls of us all.'_

Those were his last words to her before he had almost thrown her out of the door and into the woods. Mardun. The man she had come to love, respect and revere as nearly a father. Of course he wasn't biologically, but after her Da had died he stood in. And now he may well have sacrificed himself… for her. And if he could do that then she would not -could not- give in.

'Don't make this any harder than it needs to be, filth. Tell us what you know.'

She decides to try and be smart with them. 'Things that were, things that are and some things that have not yet come to pass.'

'Don't try it on with me girl.' Baod growled menacingly. 'Remember who's got the knife in this. Now. Perhaps we will take a shot at some niceties. Last chance girl, or you'll find yourself wishing you'd spoken up. What's your name?'

'Why do you need to know what those I am civil with call me? What is it to you?'

He swiped the knife quickly across her cheek, enough to draw blood and make her cry out:

'Kalira! My name is Kalira.'

'Good, good.' Mused Baod, 'You seem to understand our little game. Now, tell us. Kalira. Where are you going? Or should I say, WERE you going?'

'Away.' She replied simply, trying to find a plausible answer. She got a jab above her left ear for her resistance.

'Osgiliath. Within the realm of Gondor.' She blurted out. It wasn't a lie either. She really had thought she should escape in to the welcoming and protected arms of Gondor. The orcs got nervous at that reminder of how close they were to the borders of their fiercest enemy. Even Baod looked around fretfully'

'Right, girl. Last one then we'll tell you what were gonna do. Why are you going? Not will be any more.'

'Because of you! Because you came and raided my village. My family, they told me to run. I'm not telling you any more.' She shouted, struggling.

'You have fire and spirit Kalira-'  
'Don't use my name!'

'and I hope you don't lose it. I take it you've heard of slavery?'

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 **Sorry that that was a bit shorter than normal but I hope you enjoyed anyway. I've chosen a name (thank you Snowstar207) so all I need now is a SHIP. Desperately. I've managed to delay it a bit but I won't be able to hold it off forever :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**HIIII. So, the votes currently stand at: Fili-1, Dwalin-1 and Kili-1. It only takes a second to leave a review and it only needs to be one word. PLEASE. I am begging you! I'll just have to delay the action more if you can't/won't help me. I'm patient, I can wait. Maybe '0.0' Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

 _I take it you heard of slavery._

So many, many things were whirling through her head at that point and when he had said those words, every last one of them ground to a halt.

 _Slavery._

Losing all forms of freedom, used and abused like an object, forced to your masters will with no hopes of escape apart from through death. And to orcs of all things.

Knowing that it would be fruitless before she even began the venture, Kalira writhed and squirmed and kicked and bit and tried every means of escape known to her. None worked.

'Tut. Tut.' Leered Boad, drawing right up to her face as it was held in place by the orc who had her hair in his fist. 'And to think I was going to give you a little choice. Hmm. I think I shall for either way you cast your vote will lead to the same end for us. An amusing one. So, I, being the kind general I am, going to offer you an option between these two: you can either be knocked out continuously until we reach the nearest town outside of Gondor which should be around three and a half days' time by a knock to the head. OR.' He said quickly, nothing Kalira's panic, 'We could chain you up by the neck and walk you there. The choice is yours.'

She looked around in alarm. Neither option was good. Even remotely so. 'I-' she started 'I chose- option b. I will walk.' She tried to hide her shaking hands behind her back and look the orc monstrosity in the eye.

'Very well.' Boad spat. 'Tie 'er up. One around her wrists and another around her neck. And if she squeals or yelps or mutters... Whip her.'

Kalira winced at the venom in his words. Then she saw the whip in mention. And her heart stopped. It wasn't what you would instantly call a whip. It was a long thin metal link chain **(like a bike chain)** with teeth (real ones) at ten centimetres intervals. Not only would you feel the sting of the whip but that one could-and would-literally tear chunks out of you. And it was covered in dried blood.

Swallowing back the bile, she held her hands out in front of her and watched as an orc with false legs came and bound them together with a length of filthy rope. She tried also not to wince as it looped the other end of the same length around her neck. It rubbed and was tight and… sticky. Trying not to think about why, she stumbled forward as Boad gave the rope a tug, testing its strength.

'Right girl. One toe out of line and you know what happens. You'll get one cup of mudge a day. We'll stay in the town for one night and then we'll get someone to sell you to. You shall not look at us but instead at the floor. Understood?'

'Understood.' Kalira answered in an undertone, head bowed as she had been ordered.

'Sir.' Boad added. 'Or master.'

'Understood, sir.' She remedied, still not looking up.

' _Parmab_ (On).' Shouted Boad and everyone -including Kalira on the end of his lead- followed.

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Mudge. It was both the most loathed and loved thing about Kalira's day. Loathed in that it stuck to her throat and made her wretch and tasted like… she didn't want to know. Loved in that… it was all she got to eat after fourteen hours of walking. Every night, she would eat a mug of mudge, get three beatings for whatever excuse they could find, get tied to a tree and told to be up all the earlier the next morning.

Finally, dawn shone on the third day and Kalira felt a spark of hope at being released from the hold of these fell beasts, but also a nagging worry that her next master would be worse still. What if he constantly whipped her? The orcs didn't do that too much for fear that no one would buy a wounded slave.

They were all sat around a flaming log, discussing things in black speech, not knowing that she could understand what was being said:

' _The scrat, will she sell do you think?'  
'Yeah. And for a good price too I should think, not often we get one as fit and healthy and young and pretty as this one.'  
' Who are we passing 'er to when we get to the forgotten hill?'  
'The 'alf man. Remember? We give 'em to 'im and he then goes to one of the little towns outside Osgiliath and sells 'er on. Wonder who she'll go to?'  
'Some wealthy man I don't doubt. Not one of the respectable ones though. Nah. They're much to 'noble' to do such a thing.'  
'Stranger things 'ave 'apenned though, stranger things have happened.'  
'Indeed they 'ave. Come on. Let's get going. We're not far now.'_

Now they spoke to her in the tongue, not knowing that she already knew what they were going to say. 'Girl. Come. We move now. Today we will hand you over.'

'Thank you, master.' Kalira replied, faking innocence. And with that they were off again. But off to what, Kalira didn't know.

 **Well, a bit longer than normal but take that as an apology for not updating in a while. :/ yeish. Sorry about that. If you want to know what happens soon then please let me know. And please** **VOTE.** **It will be a few chapters yet as is, but I can always drag it out… I will not start until I have ten votes. I'm patient, I can wait. Maybe… :/**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thorin x 2 Dwalin x 1 Fili x 1 Kili x 1. That's how the votes currently stand folks. I NEED HELP! Please! Forget Gondor-** **I** **call for aid fellow Tolkien fans! Please! Any reviews are welcome. Anyway, I am so unbelievably sorry that I haven't updated for ages but thank you all for sticking by me! There's so time/character mixing in this chapter so HE (You'll know who it is when HE appears) will be the same age that he is in LoTR and so will his brother and wife. Please ignore the complications that arise because of them, I'll try to smooth it over as much as possible but there might be somethings that I just can't sort out. I realise I'm maybe not the best writer but not posting has been eating away at me for days! Yours truly, MIMIbaggins**

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It was all very sudden how it happened. They had lost the wargs in a river and so they were all stuck to being on foot, not that it changed Kalira's circumstances at all. One minute they were trudging stealthily through a forest -at least, as stealthily as a band of orcs can trudge, and trudge they did in every sense of the word- the next they were all dead with lime green feathered arrows sticking out of their necks. All bar three.

The three in question wereRamnog- the archer-, Ajhoxtdi- Baod's lieutenant- and Baod himself. And Kalira. On a lead. But she was the only one out of the remaining party that didn't have a knife pressed to her throat. It was a relief, but she also knew that their assailants could easily remedy that.

From the shadows a tall, hooded man with a proud, fair face and stormy grey eyes approached them and stood in front of Baod. HE was clad in brown vestment for the most part, apart from his cloak and hood which were a leafy green. He had matching leather bracers on either arm and a bow and quiver of arrows slung across his back. His sword was in his hand, read to move at any moment. On his chest, though, was the most striking thing and the thing that really made Kalira's spirits lift. He bore the symbol of the white tree and the seven stars. The symbol of the free realm of Gondor.

She was shaken from her reverie by a sharp, hard tug on her rope. It sent her stumbling forward and into the direct line of sight of the man. Not forgetting her position, she quickly tore her eyes away from him and planted them on a patch of moss a few paces in front of her. She then bowed at the waist, kept her position for a few moments, and then rose back to her full (but still minimal) height. Then the man spoke:

"What was your business here, filth? We do not have dealings with the servants of the enemy."

"Nor do we answer to any among the race of men." Was Baod's swift reply. "Who are you anyway, you _**Undur Kurv**_ (Sissy/wuss)."

"I will give you my name and purpose if you give me yours." Was the answer the man gave. Baod considered it for a moment and the man gave him a little prompt. "Remember as well that I have licence to kill you all where you stand… And I could always just ask the girl."

That drew responses out of both of the parties mentioned. Baod growled and held her lead all the tighter and Kalira flinched, thinking about what they might do if they thought that she had more information than she really did. Torture her, most likely. Suddenly she felt a great urge to run, be sick, collapse or all three at once, which, of course, wouldn't work.

So she started with throwing up.  
Then trying to run which, in her weakened and ill state, only amounted to her stumbling away a few paces.  
And then promptly collapsing on the ground.

She heard light footfalls all around her and soon after felt a warm, steady hand on her back, rubbing in circles, soothing her. The hands owner was giving orders; kill the orcs, burn them, and collect their own supplies to return to the city. Then HE spoke to Kalira. "Girl? Girl can you hear me? The orcs are gone, you're safe now. Can you hear me? You're safe. We won't hurt you. My name is Faramir and I am the Captain of the Guard of Gondor. I won't let you come to any more harm. I am going to take you to my brother, Boromir, High Warden of the White Tower and our Captain-General. We wish you no harm. Can you hear me? Look at me. If you can hear me, look at me."

Head spinning, and panting like mad, Kalira shifted to look at the ground at the man's feet. She couldn't look at his face. She was his inferior, a slave. It would be a great dishonour to him if she was caught even glancing at him. He noticed this and implored her to look at him, so he could check if she was alright. She spoke up then, muttering slightly, and her teeth chattering from fever. "I-" She started, "I am not allowed to look at you my lord, for I am but a slave and it would cause you great dishonour. I am thankful to you eternally and forever in you service for your freeing me from the custody of the orcs, but I am still not permitted to look at you, master."

That made Faramir stiffen. 'Master'. He would not tolerate any one, least of all this child, a girl of about six, to refer to him in such a manner. And he told her so. "No. I understand. But there is something that you too need to understand. We stand within the borders of the free realm of Gondor. We are all free. We all deserve basic rights, freedom being one of them. I am no more your master than any other. Therefore, I now free you and hand back your rights as a person, for you were wrongly robbed of them. You are now welcome in this realm of men." With that, he took his sword and severed the rope around her neck. Only then did she realise quite how much it had been choking her. She let out a gasp and ventured to glance up at Faramir.

He smiled at her but quickly his expression turned to one of shock and horror. Kalira recoiled, wondering if she had done something drastically wrong. Then he did something unexpected. He reached out and put a hand to her forehead. Moments ago, his hand had seemed warm on her back. Now it felt cold as it pressed down against her. 'Or maybe I'm just boiling hot.' Reasoned the little part of her brain not consumed by swimming pain or fuzzy static sounds.

Everything was fading into black. She could feel her eyes rolling up into her head. It was like everything, everything but her thought, was in slow motion. She could feel Faramir's hands on her shoulders, shaking her, trying to keep her conscious, stop her from slipping away. She knew from the outset that his attempts were in vain. He was talking to her now, trying to convey a message, trying to tell her to stay with them. Of course, she couldn't hear him and he finally seemed to realise that. He rested her head on one of his hands and lifted her up in the other, holding her like a baby. Size wise, she was around half the size of a human child of that age, so he had no trouble holding her so.

And that was as much as she could remember before the darkness overtook her and she lost consciousness.

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 **I hope that you all enjoyed that! You can know see that HE is Faramir and so you can work out his brother and wife. I surprised myself with how much I enjoyed writing that. I have a few little unexpected twists to add in before she meets the company though which will sort out her age and is the reason that I added Eowyn to my list of LoTR time/character mixes instead of just having Boromir and Faramir. Like I said last time though, I won't let her meet the company until I have 10 votes cast for the ship. I hope that this made you guys happy!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hiya! I'm back! The votes stand at Thorin-2, Dwalin-1, Fili-1, Kili-1. So yeah… that all I've got to say really, apart from; Enjoy!**

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Feet. Why was it always feet? All around her was the sound of feet. Feet rushing to and fro. Feet shuffling in their shoes. Feet. Feet, feet, feet.

Those were the thoughts that were going through her mind when Kalira had first opened her eyes, in her slightly deluded state, and beheld the fortress city of Minas Tirith. They were maybe still a league away but as they ran she could get a pretty good view across Faramir's elbow.

It was as tall and imposing a city as one was ever likely to see, much like its inhabitants. It was seven tiers and carved from the side of the rock face, with a tall central section which lead up to the courtyard of the White Tree. It was an off-white colour but still looked somewhat regal and majestic as the approached it.

Sensing that she was once again awake, Faramir struck up conversation with Kalira, trying to find out anything about the small rescued slave. He started simply.

"Girl? I sense that you are now awake and though I am out of breath from running, I wish to know more about you before I take you before my brother. What is you name, to begin with?"

"My name is Kalira. Or, rather. That was the name given to me by my adoptive farther, Mardun. I don't know what the name that my blood parents gave me." She whispered. Although she had only just met this man, she trusted him. Suddenly, she felt tears well up in her eyes unexpectedly as she thought about her old village. Her friends, her home, her Da. He had been her everything, and she had been his. Their lives had always been fraught with danger, but they had found happiness and strength and security in each other. But now he was gone. Now everything was gone. She decided to continue, and Faramir kept listening.

"I was only a few weeks old at most when he found me. Or should I say, found us. I was found with my parents in a burning caravan. I was never told anything about them apart from the fact that they- they both had orc blades sticking out of their backs and were face down dead just like everyone else when we were discovered. They had hidden me in a basket and wedged me in a compartment in the ceiling. I was the only one left alive and I was only found because I started crying. I- I was taken in and told that much and assured that I would be told everything when the time was right. But now I guess I'll never know." Faramir frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean, 'you'll never know'?" He asked.

"They'll all be dead." Kalira answered plainly. Faramir winced at the bluntness and resigned tone of voice, and then frowned, this time with a bit of pity in his gaze, so she elaborated. "They would've died when the orcs attacked. Orcs leave no survivors on a raid. The last I saw of the village, it was on fire and Mardun was running into the thick of it trying to save his people and his home. He sent me off into the woods, knowing that it would be safer. He gave me a locket and told me to protect it forever and never let it go, for it holds the souls of them all. Dead men don't talk. I'll never know quite who my biological parents were. I dream about it sometimes. Fantastical stories where He was an important lord, or She was a lost princess. Other times I like to believe that they were just simple peoples but I was the apple in their eye. Their everything. Their little princess. I don't know if I had siblings or not. If I did, they too would be gone beyond the world of the living. I have to stay strong, for all of them. They're looking down from the sky even now. I can't just break down, it's not what they would have wanted."

She realised then that she was crying silently and shaking like a leaf. She inwardly cursed herself for her weakness. Hadn't she just said that she needed to stay strong? She must look so helpless to this great lord of Gondor. A tiny mewling baby who couldn't fend for herself. Again, Faramir broke her train of thought.

"I am most grieved to hear that, lady Kalira. I am sure that your parents were very great and fair people, even if their fate was far from that. As for you adoptive father, I have so news on the matter. Do you wish to hear it?" She nodded. "Very well." He continued. "The orc attack on your village was actually the reason that my company and I were out on such far stretches of our lands. Although it was not strictly within our borders, it still posed a threat if the Enemy thought that he could successfully seize control of a village so near our lands. So we were sent to track down the orcs and kill them. We did just that and found your village over run. When we arrived, they were feasting on… the victims of the attack." The urge to vomit suddenly came back as she thought of the monsters eating the people and… 'Nope,' she thought. 'Don't think, just listen.' Faramir continued, but somewhat more slowly, carefully and more delicately. "They had left none alive and even the women and children were slaughtered. I'm sorry, but it seems that your father, Mardun, is dead, Kalira. I am sorry. I know what it is like to lose a parent, my own mother died when I was young, but to have it happen twice, it must be infinitely worse. I truly am so sorry, Kalira. So sorry."

At those final words, Kalira sobbed in earnest. Although she was only six, she knew the finality and irrevocability of death. There was no turning back; no hope of ever seeing them again in this world… and if you took your life to try and be with them; you would not be among the honourable dead but instead cast into the void. Even if she did die naturally though, would she go to the post-death world of men? Was she HUMAN? Even at that age she knew in her heart of hearts that she wasn't. She had never been told the race of her parents. So that was that. She would never see her Da again.

She burrowed into Faramir's cloak and he held her tightly to him, drawing in the tiny girl who had not only lost both of her biological parents, but now her adoptive father as well. He felt a surge of pity towards her and the injustice of it all. She didn't deserve any of this. She was innocent. He knew what it was like to lose a parent and wouldn't wish the pain of it upon anyone. He would need to have a good, long talk with Boromir when he returned to Minas Tirith about what was to happen to her. Surely, she could not just be cast out after all she had been through and left once again to the mercy of orcs and wolves and the other fell things that lurked on Gondor's borders? No. He would not allow it. He would help her in any way that he could rather than see her suffer any more.

He had not noticed quite how far they had run; for all of the thoughts racing each other through his head. As he heard the cry of voices from above and the familiar clanking of the gates being drawn back he made up his mind about what he was going to propose happened to the girl. She hadn't moved since he had told her the fate of her Da. He questioned now, as he slowed to a walking pace, whether or not it had been the right thing to do before getting the opinion of his father. He still thought he should have, even if it had not been the wise thing to do, to withhold information about such a subject would have been wrong.

So, as they entered the city of the seven stars and his wife came rushing out to greet him, he did not put the now sleeping Kalira down, but instead held her out to Eowyn saying, "If no one claims her, we keep her." And she smiled and nodded in agreement.

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 **Ok guys! I hope that you enjoyed that and forgive me for my absence in the past because I have just given you my two longest chapters for this story in three days ',:) As I have said before, I STILL NEED A SHIP! The review only needs to be one word! If you don't have an account, I'll forgive you, but you CAN still review anonymously, and I will thank you under the title 'Friend and supporter' in my next chapter! The rest of you who do have accounts, there is no excuse. I am not asking for an essay, simply one word to help me out and to show that my work is not all for nil. OK. Rant over. A tad bit of background info which might make Faramir's decision a little bit more reasonable: Eowyn, for whatever reason, can't have any children but both she and Faramir are desperate for a little third person. Which is why he decides to take it upon himself to help and protect Kalira even though he has just met her. I hope that you all enjoyed that chapter! God bless you all, and have a nice few days!**


	7. Chapter 7

**OK… to kick this off, the reason that I'm writing this chapter now and not over the weekend is for my friend and supporter: GUEST! If you are reading this this then a massive thank you! I'm happy that you are dedicated enough to keep coming back even if you don't have an account. To the rest of you; take him/her as the example. And PLEASE help me! *_* Anyway… Over the next few chapters I apologise for the amount of line breaks there will be in comparison to my other chapters. Not necessarily this one but others. I put it in now so that I don't forget:/ I hope you all enjoy, and guest, this one's for you. (Votes are still, Thorin-2, Fili-1, Kili-1, Dwalin-1)**

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'She's tiny.' Eowyn thought as she held the little bag of bones that Faramir had brought back with him from his orc hunting trip. She had been told that her name was Kalira but to ask her her name when she awoke, because otherwise she might become suspicious and Faramir needed the counsel to go well, not for his brother and -especially his father, who was bound to be dubious- to come in to find her struggling against Eowyn or cowering in a corner or (worst of all) running terrified through the streets of Minas Tirith. Of course, Eowyn needed it to go smoothly as well. She had desperately wanted a child ever since she and Faramir had gotten married. And here was a little girl who needed love, and care and attention. And they could give that to her.

She had been smitten with the girl since she had laid eyes on her. She had a round face with splashes of freckles on her cheeks, and big, round eyes which Eowyn had seen when she had woken up on being separated from Faramir. They were grassy green in the middle, directly surrounding the pupil, reaching out to about half way and then blending into a stunning shade of purple on the outer half. They were beautiful. Her strawberry blonde hair was curly and cut short so that little ringlets fell into her eyes but were too short to tuck behind her ears **(much like Bilbo's, just slightly longer)**. She was the most adorable thing that Eowyn had ever seen. And she never wanted to let her go.

Clearly Kalira never wanted to let go either, because the only time that they had managed to detach her from who she was clinging to, was Faramir taking her out of his arms and putting her in his wife's. Since that moment, Kalira had held onto Eowyn's hair for dear life and was impossible to remove. Not that Eowyn minded. The little girl weighed little, worryingly little, even for a child of her age, but Eowyn knew little of what was healthy for children of Dwarrow. And she was almost certain that that was what Kalira was. She was no child of men, and certainly no elf. The only species that was small enough to have sired the little bundle in her lap were the dwarfs. There was something not entirely dwarfish about her though, her hair was too curly, and dwarves usually only had wavy, not curly, hair. Her nose was not prominent enough either and her face was too round even for her age. She also didn't have the BUILD of a dwarf. She was incredibly petite and delicate, with long fingers and slightly pointed ears. She didn't know for certain, but Eowyn was pretty sure that the dwarves didn't have pointed ears, but this was such a slight point at the very tip that maybe she had missed it when the traders came in from afar. They never seemed to show their ears, maybe it was because they wanted no association with elves. As to why that was, she wasn't sure. No. Unless there was some completely unheard-of race that was as small as dwarves, as fair as elves and had the stature of men only smaller, then Kalira was a dwarf until she was claimed otherwise by her race. If that day ever came.

Eowyn was abruptly brought out of her ponderings when Kalira stirred in her lap. 'She must be waking up' she thought, shortly followed by,' Oh gracious, what am I going to do!'. Faramir was meant to be there when she woke up so that she didn't think that she had been taken away again! Now that had had gone to the crows. Nothing ever went to plan, did it? She didn't have time to ponder on that though. She sat quietly with her arms resting on the arms of the chair either side of Kalira. Trying to act calmly, she began to rock the chair slowly back and forth, knowing that that was what her mother used to do to calm them down when she and Eomer had been small. Then the little girl did something completely unexpected. She screamed. She screamed a scream of pure terror, but it couldn't have been Eowyn for two reasons. The first reason was the Kalira didn't even have her eyes open when she let out the scream so didn't know that Faramir wasn't there. And secondly, once she had finished screaming after about ten seconds, she buried her head into Eowyn's chest and sobbed while hugging Eowyn tightly around the middle as if she were a lifeline. Eowyn immediately pulled Kalira in protectively, making calming noises while running her finger through the child's hair.

When none of these did anything to ease the girl's crying, Eowyn decided to sing. She had often seen young mothers singing to their children, and they always seemed to enjoy it and find it relaxing. She chose a very old lullaby which had a nice melody to it and, to children, nice lyrics. Now that she was grown, Eowyn found the words quite haunting and depressing, for the were really about denial of the death of a loved one. Still rocking and running her fingers through Kalira's hair, she began.

 _Lay down  
Your sweet and weary head  
The night is falling  
You have come to journey's end  
Sleep now  
And dream of the ones who came before  
They are calling  
From across the distant shore_

 _Why do you weep?  
What are these tears upon your face?  
Soon you will see  
All of your fears will pass away  
Safe in my arms  
You're only sleeping_

 _What can you see  
On the horizon?  
Why do the white gulls call?  
Across the sea  
A pale moon rises  
The ships have come to carry you home_

That was the scene that greeted the men when they came in. Eowyn in a wooden rocking chair next to the fire, holding Kalira tightly and singing softly to her. She was so absorbed in her singing that she didn't notice when Faramir, Boromir and Denathor came in. Kalira had lessened her sobbing now to just shaking slightly and sniffing. She still hadn't come out of Eowyn's dress though.

 _And all will turn  
To silver glass  
A light on the water  
All Souls pass_

 _Hope fades  
Into the world of night  
Through shadows falling  
Out of memory and time  
Don't say  
We have come now to the end  
White shores are calling  
You and I will meet again  
And you'll be here in my arms  
Just sleeping_

Eowyn had always disliked that part but at that moment it seemed to fit. She couldn't explain why. It just… did. And at that moment, Kalira did something no one had expected. She joined Eowyn in the last verse, singing every note beautifully.

 _And all will turn  
To silver glass  
A light on the water  
Grey ships pass  
Into the West._

They all were silent for a moment and then Eowyn spoke. 'You sing beautifully child. Please, tell me you name. I'm not going to hurt you.'

'Kalira.' Came to soft reply without hesitation, still thick with emotion. 'My name is Kalira.'

Eowyn nodded, knowing that she had gotten the girl's trust and that she wasn't lying to her. She brought her gaze upwards and saw the men standing in the doorway. She smiled at them and then bent her head down to a few inches above Kalira's ear. 'Kalira.' She whispered, 'Kalira, Faramir's just arrived. Do you want to see him?'

The response was instant. Kalira's head shot up and span around, searching for him. Upon seeing him, she split into a huge grin. She was about to run to him when she spotted Boromir and Denathor. She blanched and shook her head violently from side to side. Eowyn beckoned Faramir closer. As he came she pick Kalira up and stood. Then she passed the tiny child over to her husband with the words: 'Here you go Kalira, it's ok. Faramir is right here. You don't need to go toward anyone you don't like. I understand that you don't trust them yet but believe me, they wish you no harm either.'

Upon contact with him, Kalira fastened her monkey grip onto him and settled down into his embrace; arms around his neck and sitting on his arms as though they were a chair. Then she spoke her first voluntary words, 'Thank you. If not for you I would be a slave or dead. Thank you.'

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 **Okey-dokey folks! Again, that was slightly longer than some of my previous fics but oh well! I couldn't find a good place to end it before then. I give up asking you guys for votes because you never ever answer. Out of all 86 of you who have read my fic, only 5 of you have given reviews. Remember, it only needs to be one word so please help me out. Thank you all for reading and reviewing in advance. Have a lovely start to advent 2017! (Sorry if I sound a bit grumpy, I'm not feeling great at the min, you know, not happy, as opposed to ill.)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hiya again! I think that you're all enjoying this but please let me know because without any response I have no idea. This Is going to be set at the same time as chapter 7 but just from different points of view. The next few chapters may well be the same. I Hope that you enjoy all the same.**

 **INSERT LINE BREAK!**

After handing Kalira over to Eowyn and telling her to take her home and look after her, Faramir near sprinted up to the courtyard of the fountain and the hall where he knew his father and brother would be waiting for him as they always did when he came back in order to immediately hear tiding that he brought. He was not disappointed and found them at the foot of the throne waiting for him.

It was Boromir, his brother that greeted him first, pulling him into a tight embrace. After quickly returning the gesture, he looked over at Denathor who was now at Boromir's shoulder. They greeted each other with a nod and a smile, although Denathor more reservedly than Faramir. They had never been close and so began instantly with the formalities of the details of the mission. Faramir told the tale smoothly and swiftly but with detail; he had practised these sorts of relaying exercises for many years. After not very long, he reached the part about Kalira.

'We positioned ourselves around the clearing and all fired at the same time. We left three alive for information. I had three of my men hold knives to their throats so they couldn't escape. One of them, their leader, had a length of rope in his hand that I hadn't noticed. He gave it a yank and a tiny child came stumbling out of the shadows.  
She was a dwarf and looked about six years old which is about the equivalent of a two-year-old child to us. Of course, dwarves mature at the same rate as us until they turn fifteen and then age at a much slower rate afterward. She was bound at the wrists and neck and looked as though she hadn't eaten in weeks. We used her as leverage to try and get the orcs to speak. They told us nothing but halfway through the interrogation the girl vomited and collapsed. I knew that the orcs would divulge nothing without hours of torture and we didn't have hours. She was really, very ill.  
I gave the signal for the orcs to be killed and went to help the girl. I told her my name and purpose and tried to see if she could pass the basic medical procedures. She did but when I asked her to look at me she refused. Her reason why shook me pretty badly. These were her exact words: " _I am not allowed to look at you my lord, for I am but a slave and it would cause you great dishonour. I am thankful to you eternally and forever in you service for your freeing me from the custody of the orcs, but I am still not permitted to look at you, master._ " Master. This tiny child was so forlorn and reverent that it broke my heart. I explained that she was now in our realm and therefore free of such bonds. I cut the rope from around her neck and told the men to get going back.  
She finally looked up at me and I must have shown my shock on my face at her deathly pale complexion because she drew back from me. I put a hand to her forehead and felt her burning up. Her eyes began to roll back into her head and I took her by the shoulders and shook her slightly to stop her from slipping away. I didn't know if she was simply losing consciousness or dying. When that didn't work, I tried speaking to her, asking for her to respond, even if it was just a nod.  
None of those worked and so I picked her up and she lost consciousness. She was still breathing though, which was a blessing. We ran and after about forty-five minutes, she regained consciousness. I questioned her and she told me that her name was Kalira. She had been living in the town that the orcs had rampaged. Her father, her ADOPTIVE father, told her to run in order to try and keep her safe. It didn't work, and she was captured by orcs that same day.'

'And so, what happened to her?' Denathor butted in.

'I brought her back with me.' Faramir answered simply. His father gasped while Boromir only look as though he had been expecting as much.

'Where is she?' He asked with raised eyebrows.

'With Eowyn.' He answered, not breaking his brother's gaze.

'Well then, what is it that you plan for the child? You would not have brought her back if you did not have anything in mind.' Boromir queried.

'If none of her race come and claim her, Eowyn and I will raise her as we cannot have children of our own.' Faramir countered confidently. Boromir looked suitably serious about the notion, while Denathor merely shook his head silently.

'Well then, we might as well go meet the child.' Boromir ventured.

 **LINE BREAK.**

They were walking along the tier where Eowyn and Faramir had be assigned a house when they heard it. They were still about twenty doors down when a scream of pure terror came from one of the houses further on. Everyone froze apart from the three men, who started running in the direction of the noise. They came in through the door quietly so as not to startle the girl who they presumed had made the noise. They were right in their assumption of course. Kalira had screamed ad now was in Eowyn's lap. Eowyn was singing softly to her a lullaby that was used to calm small children. It seemed to be working because the only sign of her previous distress was that she was shaking as she clutched Eowyn.

As they came on the final verse, Kalira started to sing. She sang every word perfectly. The men watched silently as the two women finished the song in perfect harmony. Only then did Eowyn look up and spot them in the door way. She asked Kalira her name and then told her that Faramir was there. His heart leapt into his throat as he saw the eagerness on her face as she searched around for him, the delighted expression on her face when she saw him. Suddenly though, that perky face went slack and grew frightened and turned away, back towards Eowyn. 'She was scared of Boromir and Denathor.' He realised.

Eowyn realised this as well and gestured for him to come over. She stood and passed her over to him. Instantly, her arms went around his neck and he put one arm under her legs so that she could sit on it and the other on her back in an embrace. He stood still for a minute and then placed her down gently on the floor. Offering her his hand, he lead her over to Boromir and Denathor who were watching the exchange in interest.

When they were in front of the two men, they stopped. Kalira looked up in fear at the wo men as they introduce themselves. One looked just like Faramir and the other looked as though he may have done at some point, but now he was old and wrinkled, and his hair was streaked with grey. They were Boromir, High Warden of the White Tower, and Denathor, Steward of Gondor, respectively, she learned. She bowed low and introduced herself as Kalira.

Out of the blue, Boromir knelt down and spoke to her, holding the hand that wasn't in Faramir's in both of his own. It was tiny, about the size of a hen's egg across. 'Welcome to Gondor, Kalira. I hope that you enjoy staying here for as long as you may. Know that should you have any qualms or difficulties or just feel the need to talk, you can always come and find me.'

Kalira nodded mutely. And then she did something else no one had been expecting. She hugged him.

 **INSERT LINE BREAK**

 **OK… well that went on a little longer than expected but I hope that you all enjoyed it! You will forgive me if it is a little shorter than the last few though because these were post on two consecutive days. Next chapter will be from Kalira's point of view and then the story will continue on. If you want to just skip to new progressions in the story line, wait until chapter ten! Again, Please vote. Thanking you kindly and enjoy what's left of November my peeps!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Ok. To begin with I am so sorry but am a stupid, throw-caution-to-the-wind kind of girl. I started ANOTHER fanfic called I didn't mean to come here, I didn't mean to stay… And now I am losing time to do everything. I warn you now, I will start updating less regularly but still I will try to be relatively often, you guys know I can't stay away for long. Thank you to ValarenOfGondor for suggesting Fili for the ship (I'm a Fili girl as well). The votes NOW stand at Thorin-2, Dwalin-1, Fili-2, Kili-1. Tensions are running high folks! If I don't get a deciding vote, I'll have to just not update until I have a front runner. Enjoy this chapter which you should have got a while back! :/ :]**

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She had just woken up when they entered through the massive gates of Minas Tirith. They were at least five times her height. She saw many people lining the small entrance courtyard, including a regal looking woman with long flowing golden hair in a starched white dress. Faramir made in her direction and Kalira, not immediately trusting this strange new person, hid herself in Faramir's cloak. He tried to pass her over to this new woman, but in desperation from the thought of being separated from Faramir, and the thought of going with someone she neither knew nor trusted, she clung onto him like a lifeline until he told her that he would be back soon, and that this was Eowyn, his wife, and that she needed to let because he needed to talk with his brother. Only then did she let go and let herself be placed in Eowyn's surprisingly strong arms.

Eowyn's grip on her was firm and comforting around her. She decided to trust in Faramir's decision, and let herself once again fall into sleep…

* * *

Her village was on fire. She was crying and begging him not to leave her. He wouldn't listen. Instead, he punched a hole in the wall and brought out a locket. He gave it to her with shaking hands and told her: 'You carry this, you carry the souls of us all.' She took it, tears running like burning rivers down her cheeks. He kissed the top of her head lightly and then, hearing the howls of the wargs, turned serious once more. 'Kali, you need to run. Run far from here, out of the reaches of the orcs. Can you do that for me?' She nodded hurriedly. 'Good, now go. Run. RUN! RUN for all of us! And take this. Keep this safe for when you carry this, you carry the souls of us all. Now go! They have come! Do not look back! We will find you! Run. RUN! RUN!'

And then she had fled in a wild blur of tears, and blood. She had looked back once, and in that glimpse, saw her father, the only person she cared for and the only person who cared for her, dashing back into the burning town to try and rescue his people…

* * *

She sat bolt upright and screamed as though she was experiencing it all over again. She screamed a scream of pure terror before she had even opened her eyes for fear that, when she did, she would be back there in her burning village, her burning livelihood.

She felt soft material under her and launched forward to hide within it, trying to block out the screams of the dying that were once again in her ears.

She remembered where she was. She was in Gondor, and Faramir, Captain of their Guard, had brought her there from the custody of orcs. She felt strong, warm, protective arms close around her and hold her tight. She sank into the embrace and continued to weep. She felt long, gentle fingers run through her short waving hair in a soothing manner and it calmed her a bit but not enough to block out the noises in her ears.

Then they began to sing. She **(Eowyn)** sang a lullaby that Mardun had used to hum to Kalira when she was having trouble sleeping. She knew every word off by heart. It was a sad song but also one of consolation and hope. It talked of someone who was no longer living, who had passed away and it was a song of grieving for that person. Hearing the familiar tune calmed Kalira's frayed nerves a great deal and she began to ease her tears. Finally, she was calm enough to sing along with it. It was only the last verse, but she still enjoyed the feeling of making music again.

 _And all will turn  
To silver glass  
A light on the water  
Grey ships pass  
Into the West._

All was silent for a moment and then the person spoke. 'You sing beautifully child. Please, tell me you name. I'm not going to hurt you.'

'Kalira.' She replied softly without hesitation, her voice still thick with emotion. 'My name is Kalira.'

The woman nodded, sensing that Kalira trusted her and wasn't lying to her. Kalira didn't quite know WHY she trusted this woman, but she did. The woman (who she had just remembered was called Eowyn) straightened up, as if stretching an aching back. Almost instantly, she bent her head back down to just a bit above Kalira's ear. 'Kalira.' She whispered softly, 'Kalira, Faramir's just arrived. Do you want to see him?'

She responded immediately. Kalira's head shot up and span around, searching for him. She longed to see him again and to thank him properly. Upon seeing him, she split into a huge grin. She was about to run to him when she spotted the two imposing men that stood at his sides. She shrank back and shook her head fiercely, burrowing back into Eowyn's dress. They looked menacing and disapproving, especially the older one with the grey-beige hair and deeply lined face.

She heard footsteps coming towards her and buried her head further into the satin folds. As they came, Eowyn picked Kalira up and stood. Then she passed the tiny child over to her husband with the words: 'Here you go Kalira, it's ok. Faramir is right here. You don't need to go toward anyone you don't like. I understand that you don't trust them yet but believe me, they wish you no harm either.'

This settled Kalira slightly but not much; she still didn't like the look of them. Upon contact with Faramir, however, Kalira fastened her monkey grip onto him and settled down into his embrace; arms around his neck and sitting on his arms as though they were a chair. It was a comfortable and natural position. Knowing that it was either now or never, she spoke her first voluntary words. They were full of honesty and pure heart-wrenching gratitude. 'Thank you. If not for you I would be a slave or dead. Thank you.'

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 **OK. I will admit it, I DID copy'n'paste that last bit, but I think that I changed it around enough for it to not really be too noticeable. Thank you all for reading and please don't forget to vote!**


	10. Chapter 10

**HEEELLOO… I can't believe it chapter ten already! Where has that time gone? So, I'm starting up from the end of chapter 8, when she hugs Boromir. I hope that you all enjoy this chapter. Don't forget your homework/course work/chores though (I'm guilty of this so chances are some of you are too). Have a lovely week!**

* * *

 _Out of the blue, Boromir knelt down and spoke to her, holding the hand that wasn't in Faramir's in both of his own. It was tiny, about the size of a hen's egg across. 'Welcome to Gondor, Kalira. I hope that you enjoy staying here for as long as you may. Know that should you have any qualms or difficulties or just feel the need to talk, you can always come and find me.'_

 _Kalira nodded mutely. And then she did something else no one had been expecting. She hugged him._

* * *

He smelt good; a mixture of pine needles and fresh grass and mint. He instantly stiffened as she hugged him, he hadn't been expecting it, and to be honest, neither had Kalira. She didn't know why she did it. Maybe it was because she didn't have the words to say thank you, or because she didn't want to go back to living alone, especially when she knew that these people might accept her.

They stayed in that position for maybe a minute, Boromir and Faramir having had a silent conversation the whole way through, and then Kalira pulled away shyly, her face bright red. Embarrassedly, she stepped back and half hid behind Faramir.

'It's ok.' Said Faramir, reaching down and patting the top of her head reassuringly. 'We all know that you need a bit of love at the minute. I think; however, my father has a few questions that he would like to ask you before we make any decisions.'

'Yes.' Denathor agreed, stepping forwards into the light. 'Come over here a moment girl, it won't take a minute.'

Dubiously, Kalira followed him to the corner of the room next door, it looked like a bedroom, probably for guests.

'Sit.' He ordered, and she complied. 'I wish to speak to you about my son's intentions. My name is Denathor and as Ruling Steward, I cannot let everyone do purely as they fancy. Faramir wishes to adopt you. Until you find your kin, that is.' He explained bluntly. That took Kalira aback. What would such an important lord want to do with and ex-slave, non-human like her?

Realising that he was waiting for a response, she said quietly: 'I am honoured sir, but… do you realise that my kin will never come for me? Did Faramir tell you?'

Denathor frowned slightly. 'No. No he did not. And why would that be?'

'Because they're dead. And I have no identification of who I really am or who they were. They were cremated because the people of my village didn't know the correct rituals for all of the deceased. No one knew who they were, and if they did, no one told me. And now I'll never find out, because they're dead too.' She tried not to sniff.

'I see.' Was the only response that he offered. 'I see. And one final thing; would you wish to stay with Faramir and Eowyn?'

'Yes!' She replied almost too quickly. Her head was swimming from over excitement. Denathor supressed a smile. It would do his son and daughter in law the world of good to have this tiny child in their lives.

'Very well.' He said solemnly, 'I shall go and collect the required documents from the citadel. You may go.'

'Th-th- thank- thank…' she stuttered, suddenly feeling very dizzy. Surely she wasn't about to blackout AGAIN in front of ANOTHER high ranking noble? Yep. She sure was. And so, as Denathor called for Faramir, her world once again faded into the familiar darkness.

* * *

'You are most welcome Faramir. I will keep the documents in one of the citadel vaults. I hope that you shall be happy.' Said Denathor with a nod as he left his two sons, daughter-in-law, and new granddaughter alone.

'Thank you.' Replied Faramir with a smile as he watched his reliably impassive father walked away, to much bowing of the surrounding crowd. He had hardly shown any emotion since Faramir's mother, his wife, had died some 15 years prior when Faramir was just 9. It had been a real blow and although his father had never been _overly_ close with him or Boromir really, he soon began to become altogether a recluse within himself, never showing any emotion. It was probably a coping mechanism. Denathor had still had a kingdom to run and didn't have the time to truly grieve. So instead, he bottled it all up and let nothing in nor out so that nothing could wound him so again. Which meant becoming detached from his two young children. Faramir wished, hoped, prayed that his father loved him, accepted him. He would often be harsh with him, and so it was hard to tell. Perhaps he did but couldn't show it openly, to keep him and his brother safe. But perhaps he didn't. Perhaps he saw Faramir as the runt, never conquering the challenges that his brother did. And when he did, he was never the first. When he became a general among Gondor's armies, Boromir had done it years previous, when he had first lead a successful scouting of an enemy base, Boromir had already done it twenty times, and so the success of it was dubbed down to semi-nonexistence. Or maybe he saw them both as failures for not… being perfect? He didn't know, he always tried so hard to live up to expectation, only to get virtually no recognition for it. Sighing, he headed back into the house.

'Well then.', he smiled, 'Seeing as you are now _officially_ part of the family, we've got some work to be doing.' He continued as Kalira looked up for playing with Boromir. She wasn't playing the safest of games, she was trying to see if she could balance a dagger on her nose. He quickly swiped it out of her hands and scolded them both mockingly. 'Honestly you two, you should know better, if Eowyn came back in she would have a heart attack and Boromir and you wouldn't be allowed within a mile of each other.' Seeing her down cast look and hearing her mumbled apology, Faramir sighed again. 'It's ok. Just don't let me see you doing it again. Now, I was thinking that we could get you all cleaned up, check you for injuries, and then go to the tailor's and get you some new clothes since your old ones are pretty wrecked. What do you think? Boromir could come with us too if he wants.'

'Yeah!' She squeaked enthusiastically and then shied away again. 'Sorry, that came out wrong.' She muttered embarrassedly.

'No. Don't apologise, stop apologising.' Faramir said. 'If you're going to stay with us you need to feel completely at ease around us, so feel free to speak your mind at any time.'

'Thank you.' Kalira sighed. 'A wash and a change of clothes sounds wonderful at the minute though.'

'Brilliant. I'll go and run you a bath and get Eowyn to help you out of your clothes and assess your injuries.'

'Thank you.' She squeaked again, and took off in the direction of the wash room without a second thought.

'Adorable, brother.' Piped up Boromir when she was out of ear shot. 'She is so spritely, and I must say, rather quick to trust. But, what is she? Not in an offensive way but in an 'elf, man, dwarf' kind of way. She seems too short to be any child of man or elf, but to fair and petit for dwarves.' Faramir didn't answer but instead continued to stare at the door that the small child had hurried out of, with Eowyn close behind her, he could hear the sounds of laughter and splashing echoing from beneath the door. 'You don't know do you?' Realised Boromir quietly. 'You don't have a clue what race she is.'

'No, I don't, but it does not seem to bother her and so who are we to pry. She is my daughter now and I will care for her as if she were my own flesh and blood.' Faramir shot back, almost defensively.

'Look, I understand. But when the time comes, it would do her good to know what she is, maybe reunite her with some of her own.'

'Yes, I suppose, but for now, she is still a child, although I am not sure of her exact age.'

'Ah, there I can shed a little light.' Boromir spoke up. 'She told me her age when we were discussing why and how she knew how to wield a dagger.'

Faramir frowned, slightly surprised, 'She does?'

'Yes, and rather well. In her village, children were taught how to wield weapons at the age of 7. But seeing as they didn't know her age, they took it as she was 5 years, but still looked quite young. Their reasoning was that no child younger than that would have been taken on a journey. She was really only 1. As you know dwarves age stupidly quickly so that their young may live to adulthood because there are so few of them. Because of this, she had the stature of a miniature 4 year old. She is now 7. She's been training for 6 years.'

'I thought about as much with her age, though I didn't guess about the training.'

'Mmm. Well I think I can hear her getting out now so we may as well get our coats.'

They trudged over to the porch just as Eowyn stuck her head out from around the corner. 'Ah, boy, I was just wanting a word. It about her injuries. She seems to have coped and healed remarkably well but… she still has some pretty gruesome gashes. I left her in there to dry them herself. She has so many scars though, too many for such a small child. Do either of you know her age?'

'She's seven.' Replied Boromir. 'And speaking of her here she is now!' He finished, stepping past Eowyn to properly greet Kalira.

She was wearing one of Eowyn's dresses from her childhood as princess of Rohan. It was green with a purple trim and was meant to be knee length and half-length sleeves, but instead, it reached the floor and the sleeves appeared to be full length on her, not to mention that it was slightly baggy.

'You look lovely, green suits you.' Eowyn complimented. 'It is a little large though, come, I will see if I can dig out my old corset.'

'Thank you!' Kalira piped. And she once again ran into the wash room.

'As I said earlier: adorable, brother.'

* * *

They had just arrived at the tailor's and as they entered a bell rang above the door. A small old lady was stood behind the till with an apron full of bits and bobs and bits of fabric scraps, her name was Anaha. She (like everyone else) greeted the three adults with a low curtsy, but then looked at Kalira -who was now clutching Eowyn's hand- with badly veiled confusion and curiosity.

'Anaha, let me introduce Kalira.' Explained Faramir. 'Kalira, this is Anaha, the best tailor in Minas Tirith.' That made Anaha blush. 'Now,' he said turning back to her, 'I was wondering if by any chance you would be free at the moment and be able to take her measurements and make a few outfits in her size, based on the patterns for some of the ones on display?'

'O-Of course my lord.' Anaha stuttered. 'Right this way young lady. We'll only be a few minutes.' She added with a look back at three of the four most high-ranking people in the land.

'Perfect.' Said Eowyn. 'Don't worry Kalira. We'll be right here if you need us.'

Kalira frowned, still not sure about this dumpy old squat woman in front of her. 'OK.' She said at last and wandered out to the fitting room with Anaha.

* * *

It took slightly longer than a minute, but after not very long Kalira had been measured up and was picking out which outfits she would like. She had chosen a set of green and brown tops and trousers and a purple tunic-like top with ¾ length leggings. Eowyn insisted that she also have a dress, so she chose a red one to match her hair. After all was said and done, they were told to come back and collect the items at noon the next day.

It was already getting late so they decided to go for a quick tour of the city/fortress and then back to Eowyn and Faramir's for some food. As they were walking, the foursome got many strange glances but continued with their tour, pointing out the builder's, the baker's and the candlestick maker's before all going back and bundling around the fire.

The sun had set some time ago and Kalira was starting to feel the effects of the day wearing off on her. Her eyes stared to droop as she sat and listened to talk of business with foreign nation such as Rohan and Lothlorien and watched the fire as cobwebs filled her head.

The last thing she could remember was being lain down on a soft downy bed and having the warm covers drawn around her before she floated off into the pleasant and welcoming arms of sleep and the dreams that they brought with them.

* * *

 **Wow… ok that was longer than expected but I hope that you enjoyed it. Take it as an early Christmas prezzie (as always if you don't celebrate, I don't mean to offend), come apology. :/ yeish. Again. I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo so sorry that I haven't updated in a while but please show that I should make a real effort (Like sneakily doing this without my parents' knowledge under my covers, totally not doing that right now) more often. Let me know your thoughts about the ship as always! Enjoy the numbingly cold weather (Unless you're lucky enough to live in Spain or California or someplace warm. I live in the north of England, virtually Scotland, so it's absolutely BALTIC here at the mo.). Adios amigos. Feliz navidad.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thorin-3 Fili-3 Kili-1 Dwalin-1, that's how the votes stand at the mo. Thank you to guest for suggesting Thorin and Zedzie for saying Fili-no matter what you say, you know me too well… ;) I am SO sorry for not updating in a while, but instead of begging your forgiveness as I know I should, I will just get on with the chapter, sorry if it's a bit jumpy, but I was a bit impatient and this was the best way I could think of doing this. I really AM sorry though… :\**

 **INSERT LINE BREAK**

Kalira had been accepted by the citizens of Minas Tirith within a matter of months, if not before then. She was now adored by everyone, much to her advantage; she couldn't go anywhere without being given food or at the very least, a warm hug from every other person. Also, no one ever suspected her to have been the executer of her many pranks. Hmm… their loss.

6 months passed- she turned 7, much to the excitement of seemingly everyone, and was introduced to her 'grandparents' on her 'mother's' side. She had gone to Rohan for 3 weeks, met Eomer, Theodred and, Theoden and charmed them all instantly, much to their annoyance; they found it impossible to say no to her. TeeHeeHee…

1 year went by- the winter festival in the fortress city was a force to be reckoned with. Lights decked every shop and inn, lanterns decorated the wall walkways, Kalira decided that it was her new favourite time of the year, it was just so happy. There had been a few official visits, one from the men of Harondor and another from the men of Minhiriath, but they had left after not very long. That was fine by her, she still had one of each of their arrows in her quiver…

3 years gone- she was now 9, the age where boys her age started basic weapons training. Seeing as she had already practised for years, she was eventually allowed to attend the training sessions instead of learning how to sew, apparently, she took after Eowyn like that… She excelled in these lessons and could soon have even the toughest of the lads pinned to the floor by his sleeves in a matter of moments, an achievement that she was much talked about for. She even had a boy… ask-her-out. She had said no, that she was too young. Jiam -the boy- looked so heart broken that she promised that it was nothing to do with him, she just wasn't old enough yet. Mmm… Mistake made.

Now 5 years had passed- it seemed like only a few months to the now 11-year-old Kalira. She was quite beautiful, with stunning green and purple eyes and waist length loosely curly red hair (it grew very quickly, and she adamantly refused to have it cut). It wasn't only Jiam who was asking her out now, it seemed to be half of the training academy. She was the only girl there, but still… yeesh. After what she had said to Jaim all of those years ago, it now seemed a game of timing among the boys to see when she considered herself old enough. And so it continued all the way up until her 17th birthday…

It had been a week since she had turned 17 and she was (in the boys' eyes) exceptionally pretty, even though she was at least a foot shorter than them and still looked about 12. She could fight, had the temper of a wet fox with a head cold, sass enough to make her as endearing as she was infuriating, and was 'a lady with the vocabulary of a well-educated sailor'. She was perfect… She had managed to hands down become the youngest and first female Citadel High-Warden, a title fairly-and-squarely won in front of the entire existing guard. Until she also revealed that he had no interest in men. Bummer. Not that that put the boys off asking. It was getting really quite irritating for Kalira, who seemed to constantly have a small entourage following her everywhere.

She decided to let nature take its natural course and let the boys marry and the like… she knew that she would live for much longer than them. And she was right. At 68, she also became the oldest Citadel High-Warden, and she was as good as she had ever been. Seemingly, she had the perfect life- she looked 25, was still the most stunning woman in the city **(Arwen wasn't there yet, and neither was Aragorn)** , could fight her way out of anything that she couldn't simply talk her way out of… but there was one problem. One MAJOR problem.

Eowyn was dying.

She was 83, a magnificent age for anyone to reach. But Kalira didn't want to lose anyone else. Denathor had died when she was 46, Boromir had died only a couple of years ago, and although she wasn't so close to them, Theoden had died when she was 51, Theodred when she was 18 (he had been slain in battle), Eomer when she was 63… And she couldn't stand the idea of losing her mother too, it would all just be too much. Not only that, but that would also make her the Queen of Rohan, Eowyn had named Kalira her successor. And she was definitely not ready for that responsibility. She would give the responsibility to Eomer's son, Eowor. He was only a child when Eomer had died, but he was 19 now, young, but not oddly so.

Eowyn had been diagnosed with a liver infection in the May, but they had been unable to cure it. It pained Kalira to see her mother like this, frail and sunken, pale even against the starched white sheets.

It was the September now. September 14th to be exact. It was the day that Eowyn died.

Kalira had been there with her to the end, she had been there when Eowyn had taken her final breath, when she had closed her eyes for the last time. Silent tears were streaming down her face continuously, even hours afterwards. She hadn't had the strength or the will to return to her post at the Citadel. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want to see anyone. She did want her mother back. She longed for it to be like old times.

She didn't want anyone to see her like this.

She had always worked so hard to maintain an aura of calm, of wisdom, of strength. She had stayed strong and seemingly impassive for all of her 'adult' life. She had built her walls high and strong; as impassable as the city's. But now they crumbled. They came tumbling down as her tears did; constant and seemingly from an endless supply. So she crouched, cowering and broken in the forgotten corner of the Nightingale Tower where the scrolls were kept, and wept tears of pure sorrow and loss and bitterness until night fell and the tears would come no more. So instead, she sat, and she stared at the window, and she watched the flecks of dust pass in and out of the moon's rays, unsure of what to do with herself, dreaming of happier times, longing for them to still be there, rather than this cold emptiness that she felt, deep in her stomach and her heart.

There was no feeling now. No sadness. No anger. No joy. Nothing. Nothing apart from the darkness and the emptiness in her soul. And so, this shadow of the once happy, jovial, and bouncy Kalira, drifted into an uneasy and restless sleep as the dead Queen was laid to rest…

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 **Oops… I guess. :C :/ :S Okay. Sorry sorry! But hey! Be proud of me! That was my first ever death scene right there (Not including when Tiala has a dead replicate made of her in** _ **I didn't mean to come here, I didn't mean to stay…**_ **because she doesn't actually die). I hope that it was satisfactory and please take it as an apology. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I had to kill SOMEONE OK? Not my fault. Well… maybe it is but who cares… Right? BYE**


	12. Chapter 12

**Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Almost Christmas! Eeeeeeeeeeeeee! Sorry, I still get over excited at Christmas! Thank you all for reading, sorry if I made anyone sad :'( A few revelations in this chapter, so yeah… Enjoy and Merry Christmas if you celebrate, and happy Durin's Day for yesterday (21** **st** **December) either way!**

* * *

She was dead. Faramir had gotten so used to his wife's calming presence that without it, everything seemed to sink into chaos. But now Eowyn was gone. Just like his father, his brother, his mother… But as Steward of Gondor, he could not let weakness through, just as his father had not been able to all those years ago… All he had left now was Kalira, the one light left to drive away the increasing darkness. That was, if he could find her.

She had run out in a storm of tears when Eowyn had finally passed, heedless to his shouts and calls for her to return. He could, of course, sympathise, all he wanted to do at the minute was curl up and cry. But now they couldn't find her. No one had seen her since she had fled the side of her mother's deathbed. All night she had not been spotted once, and Faramir was getting worried. When she was younger, Kalira would occasionally hide for days on end when she was upset, or she would go out on her horse into the Pelennor and not return until a search party had brought her back… Perhaps she had done that again. For the thousandth time, he went to the stables to see if her horse was there. As with every other time, it was.

Then something clicked. Where was the one place that no one ever went? The one place that you had to have the permission of the steward or his family to enter? One of the few places where you could escape the hustle and bustle of the city and go to clear your head? The Nightingale tower.

Of course she would go there! How had he been so stupid as to not think of it before? Instantly, he took of through the forgotten paths on the outskirts of the city layers. He took the stairs two at a time and before long, he was at the base of the archive storage tower. Delicately, he unlocked the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. He could he disturbances on the dust on the stairs and took it that Kalira was upstairs.

Creeping so as not to be heard, he went up the stairs until he reached the top floor. He had to squint through the thick floating dust, but after a few moments, he picked out her tiny form wedged in between two bookcases at the far end of the room. She appeared not to have noticed him, and was staring expressionless and despondently out of the window. It crushed Faramir to see his daughter like this, when she was usually so bright and cheerful. He went over to her and gently spoke to her.

'Kalira? Kalira, it's me, it's your Da, Faramir. Kalira, I'm here, it's ok. Kalira?' She didn't move a muscle. She didn't blink, she didn't twitch, she didn't glance his way… she just stared into space as though she wasn't truly there. He reached out a hand towards her, 'Kalira, please…' he touched her shoulder and she flinched, seemingly not having expected it.

'Da?' She whispered after a moment, almost unbelievingly, tears in her eyes.

Faramir nodded, smiling a sad smile, trying to hold back his own tears. 'Yeah. It's me. I'm here.'

'Da!' She cried, and flung herself into his arms, just as she used to when she was a child.

At that moment, neither could hold back their tears for any longer, and so they wept into each other's shoulders for what seemed like forever, holding each other, and remembering the mother, the wife, the friend, that they had lost.

* * *

They had talked for hours before Kalira finally consented to come back down from the tower. She still didn't want to, but she did out of solidarity to her father, she knew he was breaking inside and that he couldn't face it alone.

Together, they walked through the bustling streets, back towards the Steward's quarters, and her quarters next door and adjoining at the base of the citadel, ignoring the whispers and sympathetic glances and bowed heads from the people.

'Thanks Da.' Kalira said quietly as they reached her door, 'Do you… Do you want to come in for… tea or… a bit of food? You know, just to… calm down a bit and come- and come to terms with it. Talk?' She stuttered out, trying not to fall over her words, and at the same time, trying to get them out.

'Sure, why not. I don't see as anyone shall wonder why I am not… out.' Faramir tried for a smile, only resulting in a grimace which matched the regret in his eyes.

'Great.' Kalira also tried for a small smile and fell utterly short. But hey, food always made her feel better anyways.

It was probably something to do with her origins. She had spent hours researching what she possibly was, she had even asked the Grey Pilgrim, Gandalf, who had come to the city when Denathor had died but he had just given the vague answer of: 'I do not know for certain, my dear. I can only guess and even then, I would not want to give you false hopes or ambitions. You will find out some day, you just wait. Now can I get some tea, perhaps? It was rather a long journey.' And just like that, he had changed the subject and Kalira hadn't breached it again. Confusticate and damn the tight-lippedness of wizards!

She had found some old scrolls on different beings, up in the Nightingale Tower. She had learned of Dwarves (or as they referred to themselves, Dwarrow and Dwarrowdams), but they were said to be burly, and broad, with facial hair aplenty amongst both male and female and round ears. Nope, she was petit but athletic, and peach-fuzz hair on her face and everywhere but the top of her head and tiny but distinguishable points on the tops of her ears. She was almost certainly not a dwarf. She had learned of Half-men, but they were always described as tall or bearded, for they were usually half dwarf or half elf. Nope, she was not tall nor bearded, so she could rule out being even part man. Elves… Apparently she had their beauty, (she had been told as much in countless love letters in her youth) and she definitely had their ears, and their build, and their skill with weapons… But she simply wasn't tall enough… but maybe if she was half dwarf/half elf that might be why her parents were killed… She found it unlikely though… the two races hated each other…

That was when she stumbled across a tiny passage, scrawled in a margin on… Halflings. They were described, all be it briefly, as: short (tick), long fingered (tick), pointy eared (tick), curly haired (half tick), light on their feet (tick), and food-loving (tick)… but they also apparently almost never had any hair shade other than brown, black, or blonde, had _massive_ hairy feet, and never left… the Shire… which was more than 1,200 miles in a straight line from Minas Tirith, so even further away from where her parents were killed, let alone with the mountains in the way and the fact that they _couldn't_ simply go in a straight line… So it seemed that she wasn't a 'halfling' either.

She definitely seemed to be some sort of half-ling though, be it half dwarf, half elf, half halfling (confusing, much) … Whatever! She wasn't human, so she had to be a mix of those. Now to figure out which… only (well, I say only) problem: she kept second guessing herself. Oh joy!

She quietly took of her coat as she finally let the ever-recurrent thoughts, finish their ever-recurrent and useless cycle, and take their nagging place in the back of her mind where they were sure to not be forgotten.

Kalira plodded half heartedly through her dining room, and into the kitchen. She stoked the fire, filled the kettle with water and put it on the boil. 'Feel free to sit where you like.' She heard herself call as Faramir entered the room. He nodded in appreciation, and took a seat nearest to the fire.

Before long, they were both sat across from each other, not speaking, staring at their mugs of tea, and trying to think of something to say. Faramir found something first.

'Do you remember the day I first found you?'

Kalira started and jerked up to look at her Da. 'Of course.' She whispered back after a moment's thought. 'You saved my life that day.'

He smiled at the memory. 'That as it may be, you have brought me such joy, my daughter, that had I not… I do not wish to think of how grey my life would have been. Even with… Even with Eowyn at my side.'

They were both silent for a moment, each lost in fond memories.

'Da..' Kalira started, knowing that she was breaching a delicate subject, 'When… you die…' She took a deep breath, 'I do not wish to rule over Gondor a per the plan. I wish to remain here, yes, but rule? Nay, I do not wish that. I know that I am the only heir to the Stewardship… but I do not wish for such a title. I never have done.'

Faramir sighed, he had sensed that this conversation would come for a long time now. But there was no one else he could give the title to. Boromir had had not children, Denathor no siblings… There was no one else… 'Kalira, there is no one else. You must-'

'No, Da.' She cut him off. 'I will not become Steward.' She had wanted to speak with him about this for a long time, and now that she was, she was not going to take no for an answer.

'Kalira, you must understand. We have no other family-'

'Then hold a democratic election.' She said firmly, in a tone that she had never before taken with Faramir. She felt strangely heated about the subject. 'Let the 'free' people of Gondor decide who they want ruling over them.'

Faramir noted the sarcastic emphasis on free and was on it in an instant. 'What are you suggesting?' He said dangerously, also feeling his temper rising. 'That my rule is not fair? That my people are not free? That I am a bad man and a liar, inconsiderate of my peoples' needs?'

'No!' Kalira half shouted, finding herself rising from her chair. 'Simply that I do not wish to become Steward! I would not know what to do! I do not know all of the customs of men as you do!'

'No! You do not!' Faramir shouted as he rose from his chair and he felt his anger peak inexplicably. Why did she insist on being so difficult? 'And do you know why that is? Because you are not even human! You are not my daughter! You are but a halfling of unknown race! And you do not belong here!'

Both Kalira and Faramir stared at each other in disbelief as realisation of what Faramir had just said sank in.

'Kalira, I didn-'

'Save your words.' Kalira spat. So this was how her 'Da' truly saw her? Fine. So be it. She didn't need him anyway. 'They'll fall on deaf ears. This is how you truly see me? Fine. I don't need you anyway. You're going to need to find a new Steward.'

And with that, she ran out of the room, up the stairs, grabbed her 'escape' pack, and sprinted to the top of the citadel. Aftera long sweeping look over the familiar fortress city, she ran down the steps on the other side, straight to the stables. Her horse, Ariaz, a dappled gold, brown, grey and white beast with a black muzzle, nickered at the sight of her.

'Ssh, ssh. I'm glad to see you too girl, I really am. But we've got to go now, I know when I'm not wanted.'

With long, delicate, practised fingers, she swung the saddle up onto Ariaz's back, and quickly tightened the many clasps on it. She clipped on her bags, silently thanking the Valar that she had prepared everything that she could possibly need for a never-ending journey, long, long in advance. With one last look back down at the city, she hoisted herself up into the saddle, and kicked Ariaz's sides, spurring her off into the mountains and away… never to return to Minas Tirith again.

* * *

Faramir wanted to do so many things. He wanted so many things. He wanted to take back his words to Kalira. He wanted to apologise. He wanted her to forgive him. Her wanted her back. He wanted Eowyn back. He wanted to die. He wanted to kill himself.

Why had he said those things? He didn't know.

He didn't send out a search party, she deserved the right to flee, and he had no doubt that that was what she had done. He deserved for her to flee, no one should ever say such things to anyone, let alone a loved one…

So he sat and he wept again, mourning the loss of his wife, and now his daughter… both of whom he knew he would never see again…

* * *

 **Ok! Please don't kill me! Merry Christmas! Argh!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi… I am so sorry that I haven't updated in ages, I feel really guilty. Give me some slack though; I am only 13, and my parents (for various reasons, NOT INCLUDING MY BEHAVIOR, which is meticulous ;)) told me I could not take my laptop with me :c. Therefore, I could not write or update. However, to add to my plight, one may or may not have dropped one's mobile telephone down the lavatory… so I couldn't write on that either. Ooops. I hope that you have all had a wonderful holiday and a good start to the new year. Personally, my new year's resolution is to update more and re-continue/re-write my original fic, Aramere: Daughter of Thorin, which I believe isn't very well written, or very accurate since I have learnt that lots of the terminology is wrong. On that note, I shall continue to weave Kalira's tale… (and pray that my phone works).**

 **AOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOBAOB**

As she tore out of the city, Kalira earned more than a few confused glances. She couldn't have cared less though. She finally knew what all of these self-centred, egotistical, maggot-ridden, discriminating, orc-hearted, men thought of her truly. They saw her as sub-human, a lesser, race to be used and misled. She had trusted them! How? It had just been lie, after lie, after lie, after lie. Her entire life: a lie.

She clung on to Ariaz's reigns and sobbed quietly into her mane. It was soft and comforting, like a mother's touch.

But that thought brought a whole new wave of doubt and possible betrayal down on her shoulders. How much of Eowyn's love for her had been real? All of it? None of it? She didn't know, and she told herself that she didn't care either, though deep down, she did.

On and on she rode, stopping only when Ariaz could not continue any longer for a short break. She could not afford to make idol. She had a vague idea of what she was doing, where she was going, who she was going to.

Although she didn't know quite why, her heart had told her to go to Gandalf, the Grey pilgrim. He was, of course, known also as the 'wandering' wizard, which meant he could be anywhere, but she felt herself being pulled north, towards and beyond the borders of Rohan. She would have to slip through quickly and quietly, she really didn't want to see any of her family. Had they even received news of Eowyn's death? Probably. And if not, she didn't want to be the one to tell them.

It had been 3 weeks and 2 days since she turned her back on men. Now she rode hard and fast through Rohan, racing along the banks of the Anduin, keeping out of the sight of the small towns that she passed. She didn't want to see another dung-brained, slobbering, back-stabbing, kin-slaying, child of man, again. Not them or their thrice cursed houses of stone, or their towering cities or golden halls. None of it. Not one piece of it.

She now came upon a small-ish settlement of sorts. It was a mish-mash of tents, and wooden huts and stone forges. And it was crawling with dwarves. Eager for some decent company, Kalira urged Ariaz forwards towards the small 'town'. As she grew nearer, cries went up from the watchmen, calling out in Khudzul to the other guards. Unperturbed, she rode right up to the gates and called up, 'Hail, Durin's folk. I wish you no grievances, simply to have some fair company, after having gone without it for so long. Will you allow me entrance to your settlement?'

There was a murmuring among the guards, but after a few moments, a raven-haired dwarf called back down, 'If you'll give us your name, lassie.'

'Kalira.'

'I said: If you'll give us your NAME, lassie.'

Kalira frowned. What did the dwarf mean? She had just given them her name. What had he mistaken it for? Ah… He thought she had said _clearer_ , so he had repeated himself. Right… made more sense now.

'My name, Master dwarf, is Kalira.' She half shouted up to them.

'Very well, lass. Welcome to the wandering town of Angith. Follow me and we shall lead you to one on our larger tents, if that would satisfy you?'

'Indeed, it would be plenty, Master…'

'Urubek, son of Uzubek, at your service.' The dwarf bowed low to Kalira before coming down to meet her.

Kalira dismounted. 'It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Urubek. Might I ask, however, what is going on? There seems to be an awful lot of activity for such a small and… impermanent, dwelling.' She queried as they set off into the bustling streets.

'Yes! Yes there is. You see, we are expecting another visitor at sundown. A wizard, from the north.'

'Really? Which one? You see I am searching for one of them in hope of counsel.' Kalira asked eagerly, daring to hope that it was perhaps Gandalf, and she had gotten lucky.

'It is Saruman of Isengard, lass.'

'Oh.' She said, trying not to sound disappointed. 'And what is his business here?'

'Trade, I believe. Though, I'm not sure, being only a gate guard and all.' Urubek replied.

They walked in silence after that, each caught up in their thoughts. Soon, they reached a round tent with an olive green top and beige walls which boasted the sign: _Visitor and guest accommodation_.

'Here we are, lass. Your section will be the one labelled '6'. If you need anything, just come and ask me. The wash rooms are those little huts over there,' He pointed towards a small collection of what looked like sheds near the far boundary. 'and food is served and hour after dawn, at midday, and an hour after dusk at the central fire in the town square. Just follow everyone else and your nose for that. Is there anything else that you wish to know?'

'Um… Yes, if you don't mind me asking.' Kalira said.

'Not at all. Go on.' Urubek replied, quirking his eyebrow in interest.

'Well, this is obviously not a permanent dwelling, not by dwarven standards. So where are you all from?' Kalira tried to sound reasonable and not too curious, despite her interest having been almost unbearable since she had arrived.

The jovial dwarf suddenly turned sad. 'We… We fled Erebor when the dragon came, lass. We've been wandering ever since. 170 years we've been on the move. I was only a babe when the dragon came, but I still remembered some of it. It was hard, no one would help us, and the elves turn their backs on our suffering as though we did not exist.' The resent was now clear in his voice. 'We lost so many bairns in those early years, my sister among them. I'm sure you know already lass, but we dwarrow, we don't have many bairns and of those that we do, only 35/100 are girls. The losses were devastating. And because most had died from exposure to cold, we decided it best to break away from the rest, and make our own way south, following the Great River. And here we are now.' He stared over the tops of wash huts and into the middle distance. Kalira gave him some time to reflect before asking her other burning question.

'Also, Master Urubek, I was wondering if you would be able to tell me anything about this? Do you perhaps recognise it?' She pulled her locket out and undid the clasp.

'Let me have a closer look, lass.' He took it gently out of Kalira's hand and held it up to the light. 'It's of dwarven make… gold, with silver outline… key hole on one side…'

'What?! Where?!' Kalira asked.

'At the top, lass. Let me have a look at your chain a moment.' Kalira opened her fist and let the chain tumble out from between her fingers. 'Hmmm… aha! Here, look.' Kalira bent down to look closer at the clasp end that the dwarf was pointing to. 'It is a key. And I'll bet my buttons that it fits into' he pointed to a tiny star shaped hole near the chain loop at the at the top of the locket. 'that hole. Do you want to see?'

Kalira was completely taken aback for a few moments. Never had she thought that asking the dwarf would amount to knowing what was inside the locket. 'Sure- I mean. Yes, but can I fit the key in?' She asked tentatively.

'Of course.' He handed her back the locket and chain. With slightly shaking hands, Kalira brought the two together and…

Trumpets blared out suddenly, making her jump. Perimeter guards called out for everyone to line the street, in order to meet Saruman the White, leader of the White Council. No one was to be left behind unless they were on Death's door. Everyone was to stop what they were doing immediately and come and welcome their esteemed visitor.

'Drat!' Kalira added in a few other choice curses in Sindarin, knowing that Urubek wouldn't understand what she was saying. 'Well, let's go meet this 'esteemed visitor', shall we?' She re-clasped her necklace and laid the locket on her chest, her voice full of clear irritation.

'Indeed. Come, this way. I know a shortcut to a place where we'll get a good view.' Urubek said quickly, sensing she was now in a near awful mood. So, with a rather audiable huff, Kalira set off after the dwarf to meet the 'esteemed' Saruman the White.

 **Ok! Don't shoot… but this is only half of what I have written, the rest will come tomorrow once I've proof read it. But I'm disappointed that this even needed to happen. Like I've said before though, I NEED MORE VOTES! They stand at** Dwalin-1, Kili-1, Thorin-3, Fili-3 **. Please? As a tiny little late Christmas present could you -and I'm talking just to you now, not to anyone else who reads this story, just you- possibly click on the little box below, and type in one name. Yeah, I'm not even asking for capitalisation, or correct spelling, so long as I can tell who you mean. Please! Don't just think 'Oh the other readers will do it!'. Because they won't! Because they'll think the exact same thing! It really warms my heart to see that you guys actually care about what I'm doing. Please? For me?  
Ok, well… on a chirpier note, MY PHONE LIVED! WooHoo! I hope that you all had a wonderful holiday! Tata for now, see you all tomorrow!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Huff. I've got school again tomorrow. Not fun. And I miss my old school. And I have… probably 1, possibly 0 friends. So I write instead and you guys opt to ignore me. Thanks. Here's your chapter.**

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As Kalira followed Urubek through the little back streets, she got more than a couple of curious glances. For one, she wasn't a dwarf, she had no facial hair, had pointed ears, and had the wrong build. She was also dressed in the archers' gear of Gondor, which was based off of elvish designs. Some scowled at her, others backed away (she was still fully armed- bow, quiver, sword, dual daggers, and various hidden implements), and some gazed at her in wonder. She tried to ignore them for the best part and soon they were stood on a little raised storefront.

A fanfare began again, and in strode Saruman, his white robes glittering in the evening sun. Kalira rolled her eyes but followed Urubek's example, and clapped, all be it half-heartedly. Saruman seemed a bit haughty and aloof if you asked her, but no one did, and within the hour, everything was back to how it had been.

As she wandered back to her tent that evening after supper, she pondered. She pondered why the great Saruman the white, leader of the White council, and esteemed, powerful and learned wizard, would come to this little tumbled down and forsaken village. She pondered what she was going to do in her search for Gandalf, he could be anywhere. And she also pondered on what may be in her locket. Identification? Possibly. A lock of her baby hair? Odd, but not inconceivable. A note, perhaps explaining who she was… Or maybe there was nothing, and she would never know anything of her parents.

Because of all of the thoughts swirling in her head, she didn't notice the figure around the corner until she bumped into it. She stumbled and would have fallen, hand strong hands not reached out and steadied her. Only then did she see who she had walked into.

'My lord Saruman! My apologies! I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I did not see you there!' Kalira bowed low to the towering wizard.

'Do not think any more of it, child. I was wondering if I could find someone to lead me to the guest accommodations? I would be much grateful.'

'Of course, my lord. I too am headed there for I arrived here not long before you. This way.' She set off at a brisk walking pace instep with the wizard. 'If I might ask, my lord, what is your business here?'

'I might ask you the same thing child.' Kalira scowled at being called a child again.

'I am searching for Gandalf the Grey Pilgrim. Would you have any knowledge of his whereabouts?'

'I do. He is currently riding from Isengard, following the Greenway to Tharbad, the city which meets the road and the River Gwahis.'

Kalira frowned, trying to remember where exactly that was. 'Thank you, my lord. Ere the morning, I shall ride forth and search, for my need is great and I require his counsel above all else. I am forever in your debt.'

'Do not worry yourself child, but there is one thing that you could do for me, to answer a nagging question that I cannot come to a conclusion upon.'

'And, pray, what is that my lord?'

'What are you, child?'

That took Kalira aback. Of all of the damn questions to ask, he had to choose a personal one. Of course he did! Inwardly sighing, she confessed her lack of knowledge to the wizard. 'I don't know, my lord. I apologise for my unhelpfulness.'

'Hmm. I see. Would you like some help to perhaps resolve the matter?'

Kalira's eyes widened as she realised what Saruman was implying. 'You can help me know who I am?'

'Yes, but I need one thing from you.'

'What is it? I'll do anything!' Kalira pleaded.

'I need a drop of your blood. It need only be small, but from it I can decipher your, I suspect, two origins. Am I right?' Saruman raised a long, wild eyebrow.

'Oh, um, yes, quite right I believe. But, when will the results show? I still need to move on as fast as is possible.' Kalira replied, flustered.

'By midnight at latest. I will await you outside the stables then; I always find that the best way to pass the time on horseback is to think deeply, and I am sure that you shall after the revelation. And besides, you said that you mean to move out quickly, so even better. Go and get some rest, and I will see you then.'

'As you wish, my lord. Do you wish to take the blood yourself, or for me to do it?'

'I think that you should, I am not sure as to why, but it always seems to hurt less then. Use this flask though.' He held a tiny vial out to her.

'Thank you.' She took the vial and slipped one of her daggers from her boot. In a small swift movement, she poked its tip into the centre of her left palm. She hurriedly wiped the knife on the edge of her cloak and scooped some of her blood into the flask. She then handed it back to Saruman. 'I shall see you at midnight, my lord. With the results, I hope.'

'Indeed. Sleep well child.' And with that he strode over to his own taller tent just behind the main accommodation.

Kalira rubbed her hands over her face as she sat on the bed, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She had just met Saruman the White, been told that he could find what she was- and within a few hours as well-, and she had learned of a way to open her locket. And seeing as she had a good while spare on her, she decided that that was what she would do.

Drawing out the locket again, she studied its surface until she once more found the star shaped hole at its top. Then she pulled out the chain, out of its loop, and took the 'key' end in one hand and the locket in the other. Not daring to breathe, lest something go wrong, Kalira slotted the key inside the little hole.

Click.

It swung open smoothly, as though the hinges had been oiled every day since it was made. Inside there were two pictures, each with captions, and two beads.

The pictures were both charcoal sketches, which colour over the top. One was of a dwarf, a female, with red hair and purple eyes. She had a teasing smile playing and her full, pink lips; the kind that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. She wore a series of braids in her hair: a Dutch braid looping over her brow and disappearing around the back of her head, and two smaller braids hanging down from behind her ears, along with delicate French plaits in her beard. The other portrait was of a man with slightly pointed ears, golden brown wavy hair that was around three inches all over his head which held two short braids in front of each ear, and bright green eyes, like fresh beech leaves in spring. He had delicate features, and no facial hair to speak of. He also had a warm smile on his face, and a playful twinkle in his eye. Above them were the labels: Amad and Gaffer.

These were her parents. She knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. They were so beautiful, so young, and they looked so happy; both smiling and cheery, full of life. And they were dead. Kalira could feel the tears starting to well up in her eyes. These people were her real family, not adoptive, not fake. These people had loved her more than life, more than anything else in the world. She sniffed, she would do her Amad and her Gaffer proud. She would not let their sacrifice be in vain. She would stay strong for them, as they had for her.

She understood Mardun's last words to her now: 'Keep this safe for when you carry this, you carry the souls of us all'. She had thought he had meant all of the villagers- but he hadn't. He had meant all of her family; him, her Amad and her Gaffer… and now Eowyn as well. All of their spirits followed her through the barrier of death.

There were the beads as well though. She knew some of the Dwarrow's culture surrounding beads: they signified who you were, and where you placed them also meant something. The ones in her locket were obviously meant to represent the heritage of both sides of her family. One was made of silver and steel, with the designs of dragonflies carved into it with the geometric pattern of an hourglass in the background. It was beautiful in an imposing, powerful way. The other was a resin bead of the same sort of size, with a tiny aster, alyssum, camellia, carnation, dahlia, narcissus, statice, and water lily inside it. Kalira knew that they all stood for different things, but didn't have the concentration to think of quite what for each of them. Instead she broke down in another wave of tears and, still clutching the locket and beads, fell asleep.

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 **Ok, I know that the ending was probably less than satisfactory, but hey-ho, we can't all be super-duper-incredible writers like I know some of you are :( But maybe you could show me that I'm not really wasting my time with all of this. It would be much appreciated, nothing makes writers happier than reveiws!**


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